At the spaceport, Amir saw the Mandalorian's ship—a Razor Crest called Edge of the Blade. Its silhouette reminded him of a battle-hardened c
At the spaceport, Amir saw the Mandalorian's ship—a Razor Crest called Edge of the Blade. Its silhouette reminded him of a battle-hardened cricket.
"Nice ship," Amir said with genuine admiration. It really was a beautiful vessel, still years away from becoming the weathered relic it would one day be.
"Of course," the Mandalorian replied, not missing the chance to praise his ship. It was clear he was proud of it.
"Wanna race?" Amir asked, a strange competitive streak suddenly igniting between them.
"To where?"
"To the target planet. It's close—no need for hyperspace."
"I'll let you launch first," the Mandalorian said, turning and walking into his ship.
Amir grinned. When it came to speed, the Traveler wouldn't lose.
The Mandalorian powered up the Razor Crest, waiting for Amir's ship to take off. He already knew the Traveler was a YT-series freighter. How fast could a cargo hauler be? he thought, scoffing internally.
Moments later, a disc-shaped ship lifted from the port. As soon as the Traveler entered the Mandalorian's sights, he hit the throttle.
But the YT freighter suddenly surged with surprising acceleration, piercing the atmosphere and vanishing into the sky in an instant.
"Damn YT freighters," the Mandalorian muttered, pushing power to max. Edge of the Blade shook as it ascended, trying to catch up.
Watching the Razor Crest struggle on his radar, Amir chuckled. Let the young bounty hunter get a taste of reality, he thought—never mind that Amir himself was only sixteen.
There was no question—Amir won the race. And though he was tempted to gloat, he held back.
After skirting planetary sensors, both ships landed on a high plateau overlooking the mining facility.
They hiked a short distance until they reached the edge. From there, they had a full view of the mine—a perfect spot for the Mandalorian to lie in wait with his rifle. He could even bring his ship in for support if needed.
Lying side by side, they observed the terrain and guard placements.
"Data ports in a setup like this are always inside the tunnels," the Mandalorian noted.
The mine was carved into a giant pit. Its circular surface had been flattened into a broad plaza for mineral stockpiles and transport ships.
Dozens of tunnel mouths were dug into the surrounding rock walls, leading deep underground.
At each entrance, gaunt slaves dragged ore carts under the watch of brutal overseers armed with whips.
"Why not just kill the guards and shout your friend's name?" the Mandalorian suggested.
"And get gunned down by reinforcements," Amir replied, nodding toward the nearby Imperial military base.
They returned to quiet observation.
The plan was simple: Amir would sneak in alone. As long as he stayed hidden, he believed he could avoid detection.
By staying attuned to the Force, he could sense nearby lifeforms. With the help of his spider droid, infiltration was possible—at least under normal circumstances.
But looking at the mine's layout, doubt crept in.
A wide-open plaza and tight, linear tunnels. Not ideal. Stealth would be difficult.
Still, his goal was only to reach the data port. If he could access the records of newly arrived slaves from the past two days, he'd learn whether Rango was here—and in which mine.
No need to stir up trouble. Yet.
Once Rango's location was confirmed, they could decide whether to sneak him out or launch a raid. And they could call in Greeta's support, too.
Amir realized his thinking had drifted far from that of a civilized person.
"What if I take out a guard and sneak in disguised?" he asked, noting how slack the outer perimeter looked.
"Could work."
"That's all I need to hear." Amir rose and crept toward an isolated guard.
The ground was dry and yellow, with no plant cover. Stealth wasn't easy, but scattered boulders gave him enough concealment to close in.
Once in range, Amir stopped. The last stretch was too open—no way to advance unseen. Firing a blaster would blow his cover instantly.
"Damn... didn't want to use this trick."
He peeked from behind a rock and raised his right hand.
The guard immediately clutched his throat, face swelling red, body lifting into the air as he choked.
Amir calmly approached and knocked him out with a clean punch to the temple.
Dragging the body behind the rocks, he stripped the guard's jacket and put it on.
According to Greeta, mine security had no real structure—just one commander. The guards barely knew one another and often ignored orders.
The nearby base wouldn't station soldiers here unless there was serious danger. Mine owners relied on mercs and local thugs for protection, counting on the base as backup.
Once dressed, Amir walked confidently through the main gate.
As expected, no one stopped him.
Inside, the mine was worse than he had imagined.
The slaves looked exhausted, malnourished, and covered in scars.
Each was overseen by a brutal taskmaster. Nearby, a Nikto with leathery tan skin lashed a Snivvian with an electric whip.
The Snivvian—a stocky alien with bushy eyebrows and flared nostrils—groaned in pain.
Amir looked away and headed toward the tunnels.
Raised under the red flag, kindness had always been part of him. Witnessing this was infuriating.
But he had a mission to complete. Acting on impulse would jeopardize everything.
Besides, scenes like this played out across the galaxy. He couldn't change it all alone.
Once inside the tunnel, Amir released his spider droid.
Without a map, finding anything down here would be tough. While the droid scanned ahead, he strolled through the tunnels, posing as a guard.
Back on the plateau, the Mandalorian peered through his scope, bored, watching the guards shift positions.
Then he heard something behind him.
He rose into a crouch, turned—and froze.
Troop transports and starfighters were descending in the distance, headed for the far side of the planet.
Farther behind them loomed an unmistakable silhouette: a Star Destroyer.
"Bad news."
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